Mysteries Solved
by DivineInspiration
Summary: Outtakes, different point of views, and other random goodies from "The Mystery of You".
1. Jasper: Inspirational Trip to Portland

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight, I just claim the way I have strung my words together.

**A/N: **This is an outtake, shedding light on Jasper's inspirational trip to Portland mentioned in "_The Mystery of You_". Even if it might seem of no greater importance now, the trip will come up again in the original story. And Jasper deserves some love, yes? Enjoy.

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**MYSTERIES SOLVED**

**Outtake 1**

**Jasper:**

**Inspirational Trip To Portland**

I didn't throw darts at a map splayed onto my wall like my sister would have done. I didn't scour travel guides or magazines like I knew my brother would have gone about it. I didn't make a plan and cross out destinations on a list as I went like my dad would have preferred. And I didn't limit my options to cruise destinations like my mom.

I went off to faraway places in search of the magic that was inspiration, but my destination was rarely carefully planned. I might remember a sliver of a dream about pyramids and head off to Egypt, or read an article about Thailand in the morning paper and book the trip by noon. Inspiration was everywhere; you just had to train your eye to see it.

It had been a while since I had last headed off into the great playground that was the world. My last trip was to England in the late spring where I had hiked along Hadrian's Wall, much of the time indulging my inner five-year-old and pretending I was a Roman warrior who had lost his horse. I had loaded my backpack with sketchbooks, enough pencils to last me a year, and my camera.

Because of my fear to run out of pencils, I had been so preoccupied that I had forgotten my cell phone. That hadn't gone over so well in the home camp. Rose had ripped me a new one four consecutive nights in a row, and my mom claimed I had made her age at least ten years during the four weeks I was gone. Fuck me.

By late August I was itching to get back out there. I decided that I was in the mood for a little sun, which narrowed my choices a bit. I sat looking at a map of the world while I ate my breakfast, trying to narrow it down even further, but there really were a lot of sunny places in the world. I looked at Spain on the map for a long time. Pamplona didn't sound bad. I could let out my inner five-year-old again and pretend I was a matador, even if they did wear pansy ass clothes. There was no way I was fighting a bull for real. Even if I survived the encounter, I wasn't going to survive the one with my mom and sister when they found out.

Hiking in the Pyrenees wasn't a horrible idea either. I liked mountains. But then I remembered the blisters I'd gotten in England. Hiking was definitely out. And I wasn't about to play Lance Armstrong either. I could rent a car or a motorcycle and see much more of the scenery.

The thought of traveling around Spain on a motorcycle made me look out of the window where my own Harley stood in the driveway because I hadn't bothered to put it in the garage last night. I had gotten home late after a delightful night at the bar, watching Rosie swat away fanboys, and try to get Eddie to realize that being in a bar meant that he should at least pretend to be social and not just sit around and scribble in a notebook all night.

Looking at my pride and joy, I wished there was an easy way to take it with me to Spain. It would be almost like cheating to rent one there. I looked back down at the map. Sun. I wanted sun. Why go all the way to Spain to find some sun? They had sun in places a lot closer to here too. Places I could go on my Harley. I smiled to myself as I imagined palm trees, white beaches, and beautiful tanned girls. Places like California.

The next day I roared down the highway on my Harley. Destination: California.

I had left my studio in capable hands, sent a text to Edward telling him where I was headed, and even remembered to bring my cell phone this time, but just as I crossed the state line down to Oregon I realized that I had forgotten my charger back home on my kitchen table. I hoped the Cullen women would have mercy on me.

It was a perfect day with nice temperatures, and the sun was out more often than not. I stopped for lunch in Portland, a city I had been in many times before. But as I sat eating my burger and fries in a small diner, I started wondering if I had ever taken the time to actually see what it had to offer other than shopping and nightlife.

I waved the waitress over. She was, for a lack of a better description, a little old lady. Her hair was gray, bordering on purple, and she had an honest, friendly smile for all of her customers. Her nametag said _Sylvia._

"Excuse me, ma'am, what would you recommend an out-of-towner to go see on a fine afternoon in Portland?" I asked her.

"Well," she said, tapping a finger against her chin. "There's The Alien Museum and Stark's Vacuum Museum, and I suppose if you're up for a little road trip, you could head over to Mitchell and see Henry the Bear. My grandkids love him. Oh, and the Chocolate Waterfall over at The Candy Basket."

Those were not the kind of suggestions I had expected. But I thanked Sylvia, tipping her generously, and decided that I would check out the places she had mentioned. Who was I to knock other people's ideas of fun? Just like beauty, inspiration was in the eye of the beholder.

Chocolate sounded good, so a waterfall of it would no doubt be even better. So that's where I started. Even though it turned out to look more like a fountain than a waterfall, I wasn't disappointed. I took a few photos and bought enough chocolate to last me a while. It was not a good thing to run out of, after all.

Next I visited The Alien Museum which was very amusing for someone like myself who didn't believe in much, least of all aliens. Watching those around me who _did_ believe, however, was the real experience. I had always kind of envied people who really believed in something, it didn't really matter if it was in aliens, in God, or in themselves. Belief was just a really a nice thing to have as it seemed like either a great comfort or a great excuse. Either were handy sometimes.

I checked into a hotel before dinner. I wasn't picky, so I chose the first one I saw. California would have to wait for me because I was suddenly determined to discover Portland. It was weird knowing the world and not your own backyard, so I was changing that right now. I already had a few ideas for my sketchbook after I had found some dinner. I was an artist, but I wasn't about to become a starving artist.

The next day I took on Portland on foot. Walking around the city aimlessly I took pictures and sketched the most fascinating architecture, old and new, and fed my artistic hunger with all the pieces of public art I came across. Whether it was bronze sculptures or graffiti murals on walls, it was just one of those days where it all spoke to my soul on the most basic level.

I got lost several times, not particularly caring where I was or where I ended up as long as I saw new things. In the afternoon I found myself on a bench in South Park where I was sketching both what I saw around me, but also some of my impressions from earlier in the day.

I was so into what I was doing that I got seriously annoyed when someone leaned in over my shoulder, casting shadows on my sketch.

"Oh wow, you're so talented," a female voice gushed.

"Thanks," I muttered and continued sketching. I wasn't about to let go of my strain of thought that easily. Couldn't she see that I was in the middle of something?

"Are you an artist?" another female voice asked, more high pitched than the first, and a lot more annoying to listen to.

"Only when I'm allowed to work," I sighed, admitting defeat. It was one of the few drawbacks with being an artist. As appreciative, full of awe, respect and admiration as people were when they were looking at the final product; a painting, a sculpture, a sketch, they were as clueless to what it actually took to produce it. When I sketched in a public place I was interrupted left and right by people who didn't realize that I lost my concentration or train of thought about what I was doing, in effect ruining what I was working on.

I once made a girl cry because I yelled at her for interrupting me. I asked her what she did for a living, and when she replied that she was a PA for some CEO type, I asked her how she would react if I showed up at her office and started giggling at whatever she was typing and asking a million questions. That was when she started crying. My mom would be horrified if she knew.

"Do you paint too?" The first voice asked.

I sighed and looked up, not bothering to hide the fact that I was annoyed. There were three blonde girls standing behind the bench I was sitting on. They were very attractive, but I already had them pegged. I was good at reading people, and some people were just so damn obvious.

Women were like unlabeled wine. You were always looking for the good Bordeauxs, but you almost always ended up with the cheap stuff from the grocery store. Once, I told Rose the analogy and she, in true twin fashion, spun off it and claimed I attracted the cheap wine because I did too good a job of hiding that I was a crystal glass. I loved how my sister got me.

Women were mostly boring in my opinion, though, wine analogies or not. They seemed interesting enough in a haze of alcohol but it never lasted. I seemed to attract the kind of women who couldn't hold a conversation that didn't consist of either reality TV, the latest pop one-hit-wonder, or their own goddamn issues.

I reluctantly admitted that I painted too, and that was the start of a giggle fest seasoned with not so subtle flirting, a lot of stupid questions, and more innuendos than I had probably ever heard.

"I'm Tanya," the first blonde introduced herself and pointed to the two others. "And this is Irina and Kate."

"Jasper," I nodded curtly and looked back down on my sketch.

Irina, or maybe it was Kate since I didn't know who was who, gushed about what a beautiful name I had while Tanya sat down next to me. "Are you like a famous artist or something?" she asked.

"Yeah, they're giving me my own show on MTV," I smirked and rolled my eyes when she squealed delightedly.

"Really? Oh my God, that's so cool!"

"I was being sarcastic," I sighed and started putting my stuff back into my messenger bag. I obviously wasn't going to get anymore work done in this particular spot.

"Oh," Tanya said. "Well, it's still cool. Even if you are sarcastic, having your own show on MTV is just totally awesome."

I rubbed my forehead and tried to suppress all the ugly words that were on the tip of my tongue. I was usually as laid back as they came, but stupidity always made me frustrated. Along with cheap wine from the grocery store.

"It was nice meeting you, ladies," I said and stood up. "But I need to go. You have good day."

"Aw," Tanya pouted. "We'll watch out for you on MTV, then."

"You do that," I grinned and high-tailed it out of there.

I escaped to the opposite side of the park and found another bench that was mostly out of sight from the path. Stupid cheap wine wasn't going to keep me from getting buzzed with all the inspiration I felt prickling on my skin.

The Vacuum Museum was the coolest place ever. In true male fashion I had never neared a vacuum cleaner until I moved into my own place and kind of had to. I had also not picked out the one I owned, it was a housewarming gift from my mom, so I had never actually seen more than one vacuum cleaner at the same time. I had never thought about how many different kinds there were, or how they had gotten a hell of a lot handier over the years.

I spent hours in the damn place, in my mind transferring the development of vacuum cleaners to evolution as a whole, nearly doubling over due to the ideas I got for series of sculptures which was an area I had begun to delve into lately, but also ideas for paintings. I seriously loved how inspiration lived a life of its own, and how domestic appliances could spark ideas of evolution.

Remembering what Sylvia the Waitress had told me her grandkids loved, I packed up my stuff one morning and checked out of the hotel. And soon I was zooming down the US 26 which would take me to Mitchell, home of a bear named Henry.

The sun was shining like it had been the entire time since I had left Evonside. So although I hadn't made it to my original destination, I had still found what I was looking for. Sun and inspiration.

It took me a little under four hours to reach Mitchell. I didn't know where to find the damn bear, but after driving around a little it became obvious that the town was so small that I'd likely trip over it at some point if I wasn't careful. Three minutes later I spotted a big cage surrounded by excited kids and their not so excited parents. It was situated next to a charming gas station called the _Little Pine Truck Stop_. Towns with gas stations that had actual names made me happy. To me it proved that you didn't have to be a complete cynic to get through life.

I parked my Harley and went inside the gas station. I was thirsty as hell and I figured I'd get a treat for Henry for when I said hello to him. He might be a bear, but my mom did teach me manners.

Back outside with a coke and a packet of cookies that Henry definitely was going to have to share with me, I took pictures of the excited kids surrounding the cage. There weren't a lot of adults nearing the cage, but I didn't care. Henry the Bear looked friendly for a bear and he kind of reminded me of Edward in the way that he mostly ignored the fuss that was made about him and only came forth from the back corner of his cage to get the treats that were offered to him. Edward was like that too, keeping mostly to himself but willing to leave his solitude for beer, a home cooked meal, or if someone begged him long enough.

I fed the sullen bear a cookie which he seemed to enjoy, even if they were no match for the ones my mom made. But of course, Henry had never tasted the deliciousness that was Esme Cullen's chocolate chip cookies. I kind of felt bad for him.

I noticed a little girl who apparently wasn't brave enough to get close enough to the cage to actually feed the bear something.

"He's not going to hurt you, honey. He can't get out of the cage no matter how hard he might try," I said and smiled at her.

She looked at me with wide, serious eyes. "Are you sure?"

I nodded. "Yep. Do you want to feed him a cookie? He seems to like them."

She twirled a finger around her blonde curls while she considered it. Her eyes were on the bear and her little mouth was twisted in a frown. "Okay," she finally decided.

I handed her a cookie and she slowly inched closer to the cage. To show her that it was perfectly safe, I fed Henry another cookie. "They're pretty good, huh Henry? I bet you like the chocolate ones better than the raisin ones. I know I do. What about you, honey?" I asked, looking at the girl who was nearing the cage.

"I like peanut butter cookies the best," she said, still focused on the bear.

"They're good too. I'm sure Henry likes those too," I said and nodded.

She reached the cage and took a deep breath before reaching out the cookie for Henry. She quickly dropped the cookie on the floor of the cage and pulled back her hand with a little gasp. I held back a grin when she squealed delightedly as Henry ate the cookie. "He's eating it!"

"He sure is," I smiled.

"He's pretty neat," she decided. "My brother told me he was really dangerous, but he's not, is he?"

"Not while he's in the cage, at least. But I wouldn't stick around to shake his paw if he was out here with us," I replied.

"Me neither."

She proceeded to tell me that her name was Bree, and that she was a big girl now because she was going be in first grade when school started back up after the summer. She chattered on for ten minutes, hardly stopping for air after finally getting started. I was enjoying her childish enthusiasm and we shared my cookies between us and Henry until someone called her name.

She looked back with a pout and told me she had to go.

"It was nice to meet you, Miss Bree. And I bet Henry thinks so too," I said and smiled at her.

"Thanks for letting me give him some of your cookies," she said with a wide smile. She waved enthusiastically to both Henry and me when she left, holding hands with a woman who looked like she might be her grandmother. I waved back, but Henry did not. He was more interested in the cookie crumbs left on the cage floor.

I found a diner and ate dinner before making my way back north. I would find a motel or something for the night and then continue homewards tomorrow. California had lost its appeal but it didn't really matter. I had found the inspiration I had been looking for as that shit was all over; not just in the places featured in travel guides.

And on the plus side I had started my Christmas shopping early this year. Rose and Edward were going to love the key changes I had gotten for them at the Vacuum Museum.

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**A/N: **Don't be shy, let me know what you think. :) I don't know how many outtakes there will be, and I also don't know how often they will appear. You'll see them when you see them. Catch you on Twitter? I'm **d_inspiration **in that part of cyberspace. Also, I'm looking for pre-readers to test out Mysteryward on. If you're interested, send me a PM or find me on Twitter. Pretty please?


	2. Charlie: The Day My World Crumbled

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight, I just claim the way I have strung my words together.

**A/N: **This was my contribution for **Fandoms ****Fight ****Tsunami**. Thank you to **nowforruin** and **Dinx** for beta'ing and to **lisamichelle17** for pre-reading.

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**MYSTERIES SOLVED**

**Outtake 2**

**Charlie: **

**The Day My World Crumbled**

**Bella's 4th birthday **

It was later than I had expected when I finally finished up the last paperwork at the station and made my way home. O'Loughlin, the new deputy, had the night shift alone for the first time, and I was a little reluctant to leave the safety of Forks in his hands. It wasn't that he hadn't been doing a good job since he'd started – he had actually. It was more that I didn't do so well with change. Usually, when we had a new man coming in, I would know that someone was retiring or moving out of town, but this time… I sighed as I thought about Jenks. He hadn't deserved a fate like that.

Forks was just about as quiet and safe as it had been when I was a kid. I had been born and raised in the very same house I lived in now with my wife and daughter, and Forks would always be part of me. Staying behind when most of my friends left for greener pastures had never been a question, but a fact. I was right where I wanted to be. Joining the police force hadn't been a strange choice, as my dad had been the chief of police since around the time I was born, and I got a great sense of accomplishment out of serving my town.

Jenks had been a deputy when I was hired, and six months ago he had been forever stenciled into the Forks Chronicles when he became the first to ever lose his life in the line of duty. The town had been in a frenzy when he had been shot by a bunch of bank robbers on the run all the way from Seattle. Thus, the need for the new guy.

I forced my thoughts in a different direction as I turned into the driveway. My girls were waiting for me. After getting out of the car, I paused briefly in front of the kitchen window. I smiled at what I saw. Bella was sitting on the kitchen counter, and Renee was bent over it. They were decorating cupcakes. Through the open window, I could hear my baby girl's delighted laughter as she put sprinkles on the cakes after Renee covered them in bright, pink icing.

Our Isabella Marie was the sweetest, brightest, and bubbliest little girl in the world. She made me want to be a better man, because when those big, brown eyes of hers looked at me, I didn't want to be anything less than the hero she thought I was. She had been keeping Renee and me on our toes ever since she took her first wobbly steps. She was a curious one, my baby girl, and only God knew where her adventurous spirit would take her when she grew older. At nearly four years old, there certainly was no stopping her.

My gaze drifted to my wife. At age twelve, she had been the prettiest girl at the playground, and now she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. We had had our ups and downs over the years – Bella had inherited her adventurous attitude from her mother, and Renee had dreamed of traveling the world and living in a big city. But then, like so many others, she had grown up and realized that the grass was green enough right where she was.

Bella looked up and smiled widely when she spotted me. "Daddyyyy!" She waved with both hands, making sprinkles fly. Renee laughingly took the container from her and lifted her down from the counter.

I smiled through the window to Renee before walking around to the front door. There would be a little girl waiting anxiously for me behind it. When I reached it, I knocked.

"Daddyyy! Open the door!" Bella cried from inside.

I chuckled and slowly opened the door, careful not to hurt my baby girl. It wasn't open much before she slid through and threw herself at my legs, hugging them tightly. "I miss you, Daddy."

I picked her up and kissed her rosy cheek. "I missed you too, baby girl. Did you have fun today?"

She giggled and pulled at my moustache. "Tickles, Daddy. Me and Mommy made cupcakes. They're pink!"

"Pink, huh? And why are they pink?" I asked, walking through the door and kicking it shut behind me.

"'Cause I like pink and it's my birfday," Bella said decidedly. "And I putted sprinkles on them, Daddy. They're real pretty."

"I bet they are," I told her as I put her down. She ran full speed into the kitchen, where I heard her tell Renee that I was home. I took off my jacket and my gun holster, making sure it was placed on a high shelf where Bella had no way of ever reaching it.

In the kitchen I found my daughter carefully supervising Renee as she finished the cupcakes. You'd have to search a long time to find a more concentrated little face. I went over to Renee and gave her a kiss. She distractedly returned it, not bothering to pause what she was doing. She was always like that – completely absorbed in whatever she was doing, and I had stopped worrying about it a long time ago.

"Dinner is in the oven. It will be done in about ten minutes," she said. "Bella, go with Daddy and wash your hands please."

After one last look at the cupcakes, Bella followed me out of the kitchen. She launched into a tale of her day, and although the highlights were sprinkling cupcakes and eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch, I envied her. She made it sound like a great adventure. All through dinner she chattered on about her birthday party the following day, where there would be cake and she would get to wear her pretty, new dress. It was hard to believe that my baby girl was already turning four – it seemed like just yesterday that she had been born, blessing Renee and I more than we could have ever imagined. Our Bella was truly a ray of sunshine.

In some ways she was probably a little spoiled, being an only child and all, but she was never an ungrateful child. She didn't ask for much, so when she did ask for something, it was easy to give in. I had no idea what had put it into her head, but for her fourth birthday, Bella wanted a princess party. I had no idea what a princess party involved exactly, but I wanted to indulge her. She'd only turn four once, after all. I did know that pretty much everything was required to be pink, though – the cake, the cupcakes, the napkins, the decorations, the balloons, and Bella's dress. We'd been hearing an awful lot about her dress. She loved it and had been looking forward to wearing it for weeks.

"I'm gonna be real pretty, Daddy," Bella told me again and again.

I smiled at her. "You're always pretty, baby girl."

"No, Daddy. _Real_ pretty," she argued.

Later when Bella had been tucked in and told me a story – because my little girl didn't want to be read a story before bed, she wanted to _tell_ a story that she made up on the spot – I went outside to put up the swing set that had been hiding in the garage for a couple of weeks. It didn't take long after I'd thrown the instructions out. I had no idea who made those things, but I was sure that if I had followed it, I would have ended up with a bicycle or a guest bed – not a swing set.

After making sure that Bella's main gift was safe for her to play on, I went inside to find Renee.

"Anything I can do to help?" I asked her. The house would be full of kids and parents tomorrow, and she was running around looking like a headless chicken. I loved the woman to pieces, but she wasn't the most organized person in the world.

"Yeah. Um, the balloons…and we need the chairs from the basement up here," she replied and looked around. "Have you seen the decorations for the table? I know I brought them in from the car yesterday."

"Yeah, I moved them away from the front door after I tripped over them yesterday," I said. "I'll get them."

Together we transformed the house into something that looked like something for Bella's Barbie dolls. Balloons, streamers, tulle, napkins, a table cloth, and flowers – everything was pink, and if I didn't love my baby girl so much, I would hate hated it. Instead, I was just looking forward to seeing her smile in the morning when she saw it.

We brought out the presents we had bought for her before calling it a night. We were going to have one excited little girl on our hands tomorrow, but Renee seemed to be in one of her funks. She got that way sometimes, distant and trapped in her own head. The first few times, I'd tried to talk to her about it, but she always refused, and after a few days, she would be back to her own, bubbly self. I had no idea where she went in her head, and how was a man supposed to find out if she wouldn't talk about it?

I knew from other people that birthday boys and girls were usually woken up with a song and breakfast in bed. Bella wanted things differently, though. She bounded into our bedroom just after dawn and jumped on my stomach while singing a self-made birthday song for herself.

I chuckled and grabbed her, tickling her as I brought her down between Renee, who was rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and me. "Good morning, baby girl. Why are you singing a birthday song? Who has a birthday?"

"Me!" Bella squealed between giggles. "Daddy, stop!"

"You? It's your birthday? And how old are you? Two?" I asked her.

"No, Daddy. I'm four! I'm a big girl now," she told me, climbing up to sit on my chest. "Is it time for my party yet?"

I chuckled. "No, breakfast first, Birthday Girl. And don't you have a pretty dress you should be wearing for your party?"

She squealed, delighted, and kissed my nose before crawling over to Renee. "Mommy, can you help me put on my dress now, huh?"

While my girls cuddled and laughed, I went to make breakfast. One of the few things I knew how to cook was pancakes, and lucky for me, Bella loved them.

The morning was busy with preparations for the party. I had taken the day off, which turned out to be a good thing as there was plenty to do for both Renee and me. Bella was occupied with her new swing set, and every time we asked if she wanted to take a break, she declared that she was never getting off the swing. At least not until there was cake. She had been wearing her pink dress since breakfast and even had a little tiara to go with it. She didn't do princess parties halfway.

Half an hour before the guests were scheduled to arrive, I was setting up the barbecue for the hotdogs. Renee had specified that it would be my duty station, but I didn't mind. My grill was a good and faithful friend. When I had fired it up, I went inside to check up on things. Throwing a kid's birthday party was like planning and executing a goddamn military operation.

"Mommy, where are you going?" I heard Bella ask. I wondered what we had forgotten, and if it was really necessary to go pick it up this soon to the guests arriving.

"Sweetie, you need to stay with Daddy, okay? It's going to be fine. Just stay with Daddy, please," Renee replied.

Frowning, I followed the sound of their voices out to the front door. Renee was standing with one hand on the door handle. She had a bag slung over her shoulder, and Bella was clutching her skirt.

"What's up?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

Renee's head whipped up. "Damn. Charlie, I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry, but I just can't. I've had enough."

"Had enough of what exactly? What are you talking about?" I asked. I looked down at Bella, who was still clutching Renee's skirt and looking at us with wide eyes and quivering lips. What the hell had Renee said to her? "Baby girl, can you go into the living room and check that there are enough balloons?"

She looked up at her mother who nodded. Slowly she released Renee's skirt and toddled off.

I waited a moment. "What's going on? Why is Bella looking like that, and where are you going?"

Renee cleared her throat and looked up briefly. "I'm leaving, Charlie. I can't do this anymore. I thought I could, but I can't. I'm suffocating in this town – in this house. I love you, and I love Bella, but…I'm sorry, it's just not enough."

I stared at her, trying to comprehend what she was saying. I couldn't. "You're leaving?" I asked. "You're leaving on our daughter's birthday – fifteen minutes before her party starts? What the hell, Renee?"

"I know my timing isn't ideal, bu-"

"_Isn__'__t__ideal_? Are you out of your goddamn mind?" I did my best to push my own feelings aside. She wasn't just about to leave me, but more importantly she was about to leave our daughter who had looked forward to today for weeks. "If you leave right now, you'll never see Bella again. I swear to God, Renee. You'll break that little girl's heart."

"I can't stay," she said softly and grabbed her jacket from the coat hanger. "I just can't. She'll understand one day when she grows up and this town suffocates her, as well. I wish I could take her with me, but… Goodbye, Charlie."

"You're just going to walk away from our marriage and our daughter?" I asked, running a hand through my hair, wanting to just yank it out and maybe wake up from this nightmare. "Without any warning at all and fifteen damn minutes before Bella's birthday party?"

"I've given you plenty of warning, you've just been too blind to see it," she replied, hovering in the door.

"You never said a word!" I pointed out, frustrated. I wanted to yell, but was mindful of Bella in the next room.

She smiled sadly and walked out of the door – out of my life – without ever glancing back. I stood frozen in the hallway, oddly numb and my head full of a million thoughts. I wanted to run after her, yell at her, beg her to stay, never to see her again, and never to let her go.

"Daddy?"

I turned around to see Bella, wide-eyed and with traces of tears on her cheeks.

"Where's Mommy?"

I swallowed hard and held out my arms for her. She ran into them willingly, and I picked her up. She buried her face in my neck, and I held her as tight as I dared as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. Had my wife really just left me? Had my baby girl's mother just walked out the door without even worrying about how her daughter would react? It was Bella's birthday for god's sake.

"Why did Mommy leave? Can I go with her?" Bella asked me in a whisper. "When is she coming back?"

"I don't know, baby girl. I don't know," I answered hopelessly. "But Daddy's here. He's never leaving you. Never."

"But I want Mommy!" she cried into my neck, and I felt tears sting in my own eyes.

I sighed. "I know. I know."

Bella was still crying when the door bell rang. For a moment I thought it might be Renee who had changed her mind or something, but then I realized two things. One, she would never ring the bell, and two, it was Bella's birthday and guests were coming over to celebrate. _Celebrate_…

I sighed again and kissed Bella's cheek. "We can have your princess party without Mommy. Smile for Daddy?"

My brave little girl did her best, but all I got was a watery grimace, and I couldn't blame her. She probably didn't fully understand what had happened, and God only knew what Renee had said to her before I'd joined them in the hallway, but it was her birthday and her mom was gone. That was enough to devastate anyone. I had no idea how I was going to get through the party, but I hoped it might distract Bella a little.

Still with Bella on my arm, I opened the door to a bunch of excited kids and their parents. It didn't take long for the house to fill up, and while fielding questions about Renee's absence, I ran around and tried to figure out what the hell my absent wife had planned for this party. Bella clung to my leg the whole time, not interested in her presents or in playing with her friends. Tears still ran down her cheeks, and I started to question my decision to go through with the party. People were looking at me funny, but no one said anything. I couldn't remember ever feeling this awkward before, and I longed for some peace and quiet to process what had happened.

In the middle of everything, the clown Renee had hired showed up, and that thankfully took enough attention off me so that I could get the food sorted. Bella didn't even look at the clown – when she didn't follow me around, her eyes did. I tried to muster some smiles for her, but it didn't help. She got even more worried glances than me – birthday girls weren't supposed to be crying. Some of the parents tried to ask her what was wrong, but she refused to answer. Then they asked me, and instead of telling the whole truth, I said that Bella missed her mom who had gone out of town to visit a very sick family member. I didn't know why I lied. Maybe it was as much an attempt to lie to myself.

The cake was a hit, except with Bella who cried even harder when she saw the cupcakes she had decorated with Renee the night before. My heart ached for my little girl – heartbroken when she should have been bouncing with joy. Right then I decided that I wasn't going to waste my time being sad that my wife had left. I might love her, but there was no way I could forgive anyone who broke my daughter's heart – especially not when that someone was supposed to be one of the people who loved her unconditionally and kept bad things from happening to her. Renee should have been there drying Bella's tears – not causing them to fall in the first place.

The party came to an epic end when the hired clown threw up on the kitchen floor after hitting the cake and the beer a little too hard. I sent him on his way with the threat of putting him out of business. Bella's pale cheeks had been wet with tears all afternoon, and slowly people started to trickle out of the house. The kids seemed to have a good time, at least, but the parents all threw me worried glances and asked if there was anything they could do. I just shook my head.

When the last guests had taken off, I picked Bella up and sat down on the couch. The house looked like a Barbie bomb had gone off. There was still vomit on the kitchen floor, cake on the carpet in the living room, and something that had been left on the barbecue was slowly turning into charcoal. Cleaning up was not something I even wanted to consider right then.

"I want my Mommy," Bella cried, sniffling into my neck. "She said she wasn't ever coming back, but that's not true, right, Daddy?"

She leaned back and looked at me with those big, brown eyes of hers. I wanted to promise her that everything would be okay, but I wasn't sure I could. "It's just you and me, kiddo. Daddy's never leaving."

Clearly that wasn't the right thing to say as Bella continued to cry, but I couldn't lie to her and fill her with empty promises. Even if Renee did come back, there was no way I could trust her not to break Bella's heart all over again.

"I want my Mommyyyy," the heartbroken girl in my arms cried.

All I could do was hold her. I had never felt so useless before, and I vowed to be the best father to her that I possibly could. I wouldn't let anyone get close enough to hurt her, never let her out of my sight, and make sure that she didn't grow up to be as flighty as her mom. If I couldn't hold onto my wife, I'd hold onto my daughter.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for reading. I don't know if there will be more Mystery outtakes, but if I get the ideas, I'll write them. Deal?


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